In the Dawn an Angel Was Dancing
by SergeantPixie
Summary: Three times Elena saw an angel. (Or that time I- the author, went completely off the deep end with the angst.)


**AN: So this is a (very late) birthday present for my friend Luna! Happy (belated) Birthday, darling! I hope you like it. Also, um I hope you're all reading this because this is important: THERE IS SOME REALLY INTENSE IMAGERY/CONTENT IN THIS STORY so please read with caution. There's some gore, and plenty of death, including the death of a child, so just please be aware. The title and lyrics in parentheses are from Where Dead Angels Lie by Dissection, and unless you like extreme metal, I wouldn't recommend listening to it. Looking up the lyrics is okay, they're actually quite** **beautiful. So this story is a little strange, it's actually three separate stories that function together as a whole. It's based off a poem I wrote, an experiment with wording and imagery, so it might seem a little odd at times. Anyway, Enjoy and review if you like!**

 **In The Dawn an Angel Was Dancing**

 _ **Fallen Angel**_

 _(On the ground lies an angel with skin so pale)_

The angel had eyes as blue as her lips.

It was the Gilbert family's annual End-of-the-Summer camping trip, and Elena had wandered off in a fit of boredom. At fifteen, sleeping in the woods with mosquitos and bears had lost its appeal. It was already dark when they arrived; they'd had a late start that morning. She knew she should stay and help set up camp, but she was cranky and sore from being stuck in the car for so long. She needed to stretch her legs. At least she remembered to bring her flashlight.

Elena shivered, cold in her shorts and t-shirt. During the day, the weather was sunny and warm, but at night it dropped to shivering temperatures. Reluctant to return to the campsite, she continued to walk. She'd wandered farther from the campgrounds than she should have when she found the angel.

At least, Elena thought she was an angel. She _looked_ like an angel.

There was a steep cliff, and Elena had been edging closer for a look at the drop, flashlight pointed down when she caught a glimpse of the angel. Twenty feet down the cliff's wall was a ledge that ran the length of the cliff. Below, another thirty feet drop above a gorge. Sprawled in the dirt and weeds on the ledge was a girl. Elena focused the beam of her flashlight on her.

There was dirt on her face, smeared across her skin and clothing—athletic shorts, sneakers, and a tank top. There was blood too, her left leg was scraped and bruised but it was doing better than her right, which was mangled. Scraps and bruises littered her skin, but her face was curiously vacant of pain. She looked no older than Elena herself. There were wildflowers scattered in her hair—gold as the sun—and her eyes were blue as the sky at noon. Her lips were blue too, Elena didn't know how long she'd been there, but she knew blue lips were a sign of hypothermia—or worse. Surrounding her body were dead leaves and twigs, their shape curiously wing-like, cementing her as an angel as far as Elena was concerned.

The angel blinked tiredly, and then closed her eyes. Elena released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was still alive.

"Hey," she called down. The angel worked her jaw, like she might answer, but no words came. "Hey," Elena called again. "Don't worry—just hold on, I'm going to get help—I'll be back as soon as I can—just please, hold on."

With that Elena was off, running back toward camp. She tripped three times, scraped her knee, twisted her ankle, and split her lip on a log, but she was up before her injuries could even begin hurt. The beam of her flashlight danced wildly in the dark woods. When she saw the family car, she screamed.

"HELP!"

Her dad came running, quickly followed by Jeremy and their mother. Instantly her dad took note of her skinned knee and split lip.

"What happened?" he asked, his face tense and focused—his doctor face, her mom called it. Elena shook her head.

"Not me," she panted. "There's a girl, she fell—she needs help—she looks bad, there's a lot of blood." With every word his face grew tenser.

"Where," he asked succinctly.

"It's far, just off the campgrounds," she admitted. He nodded and steered her toward the car.

"I'll drive, you give directions." She nodded and climbed into the front seat. "Miranda, you need to come, in case you need to drive us to the hospital. Jeremy, you too."

Grayson Gilbert was not the kind of man who gave his family orders, but a girl's life hung in the balance, no one argued. Jeremy and Miranda got in the car.

As calmly as she could, Elena directed her father toward the cliff where she'd seen the angel. At the cliff's edge, Elena shined the light over toward where the angel was—and there she was, her lips still too blue, face scrunched with discomfort.

"Hello," Grayson called down. The angel's eyes fluttered open and stared up into the beam of the flashlight blearily. "Do not move, I'm a doctor, I'm going to help you."

The angel's mouth moved, she was saying something, but it was too soft to hear. Finally Elena realized she was repeating the same word over and over again.

" _Please."_

Jeremy came running up, pointing back toward a cluster of trees at the cliff's edge. "There's a trail over there." Grayson nodded succinctly and clapped him on the back.

"Good work, Jeremy," he praised, turning to Elena. "I'm going to need you to follow me down, depending on the extent of her injuries, I might need your help to carry her back up." Elena clenched her jaw and nodded her head.

Jeremy was still skinny and small at fourteen, but Elena was a cheerleader with carefully cultivated muscle and surprising upper body strength. Grayson absentmindedly swiped his thumb across her cheek in silent gratitude.

"Jeremy, take my flashlight and keep the beam on her, Elena, bring yours for the hike down."

The climb down was less treacherous than expected, but the close up of the girl was devastating. Her breathing was labored and stilted, coming out in gasping white puffs. The mess of her right leg was nauseating, bent at awkward angle, white bone peaking through skin and flesh. Elena gulped down a gag. The angel's left hand was clenched around a necklace, Elena thought, but only the silver chain was visible.

Grayson fell into doctor mode, checking vitals and looking- for other injuries. Elena kept her flashlight on the angel, eyes fixed on her face. The angel turned her head, lips still mouthing her breathless plea. Blue eyes stared unfocused up at Elena. Elena swallowed, but held her gaze.

"She's got three broken ribs and a fractured wrist," Grayson reported. "Hypothermia too, we can't afford to wait for the emergency vehicles to get out here, we're going to have to move her," he said grimly.

"We need to make a splint for her leg."

"We could use my shirt?" Elena volunteered. "I've got a tank top on underneath," she added.

"That will work," Grayson, agreed, and Elena tugged it off, handing it over.

Quickly he cut into strips with his pocketknife while Elena found sturdy sticks for him. When she handed them off to him he gestured her closer.

"I need you to hold her down while I set her leg," he instructed grimly. She swallowed harshly but nodded.

Mindful that her dad needed all the light he could get, she thought for a moment until she came up with a solution. Quickly she explained to her dad, unsure if it would hurt her, but he agreed that it was the best solution. Shifting the flashlight to her other hand she sat down at the angel's head, gently easing her up with her dad's help until she was leaning back against Elena. The angel wheezed, but did not protest. Gently, Elena wrapped her free arm around her arms and torso, banding them together. Next, she wrapped her left leg around the angel's left leg, effectively holding her down. Finally, she pointed the beam of the flashlight on the angel's mangled leg.

"All right, Sweetheart," Grayson addressed the angel, "I'm going to set your leg, Elena—my daughter—is holding you down, she'll do her best to avoid hurting you, and I need you to try not to move too much, can you do that?"

The angel let out tiny bubbling sigh and tipped her head down, which Grayson took as an assent. As he prepared to set her leg he talked to the angel, asking her questions, like what her name was and how old she was, but the angel didn't seem to have the strength to answer, staring blearily at him.

When Grayson forced the bone back into place she screamed, the sound a knife in Elena's chest, her body straining against Elena's firm grip. The scream was over before it truly began as she passed out from the pain, her face pressed into the crook of Elena's neck. The only thing that kept Elena going was the heat of her breath on her neck.

Her dad looked up at her and she nodded her confirmation.

"She's alive, I can feel her breathing."

"Good, I'm almost done." He returned to his work and Elena focused on the beating of the angel's heart and the shallow breath on her neck—on anything but the carnage of her leg.

"Done," Grayson pronounced a short time later, his hands slick with blood, sweat on his brow. Elena let out a sigh of relief. The worst was over. Elena unwound herself from the girl, conscious of the fact that this was the closest she had ever been to another person.

"We still have to carry her up to the car," he told her grimly. Elena inhaled sharply. She was wrong—the worst was not over—it had not even begun. Blood was all well and good, how were they supposed to carry someone up a trail in the dark? Reading the terror on his daughter's face, Grayson turned his head upward and called Jeremy down. He turned back to his daughter, reaching for her hands, unconscious of the blood on his hands. Without flinching, she let him take her hands between his bloody ones; desperate for any comfort he could give her.

"You have done so well, Elena," he praised. "I know this is hard for you, and I know the hike is daunting, but we're going to get through this together—as a family," he reassured her. With the sting of tears in her eyes, Elena nodded and stuck up her chin, readying herself for the climb ahead. Jeremy reached them at last, his eyes on the angel, her head still propped on Elena's lap. Grayson released her hands and addressed her brother.

"Jeremy, I need you to follow behind Elena with the flashlights, we need to be able to see where we're going." Jeremy nodded, tearing his eyes away from the angel. Elena handed her flashlight over to him. Grayson turned to instruct Elena.

"Elena, you'll be carrying her torso and following behind me, I need to make sure her leg stays elevated," he explained. Elena nodded.

"Okay," she agreed. Together—almost as one, the three Gilberts moved to their assigned positions, with Grayson at her feet and Elena positioned behind her head, Jeremy holding the flashlight steady on them. On Grayson's count of three, they lifted her and begin their slow ascent.

Elena could feel her legs shaking and the pain in her ankle from when she fell, but she kept breathing through. She kept her eyes on the ground, carefully testing every step's steadiness—there could be no falling now.

At last they reached the top and make their way to the car. Miranda was already in the driver's seat, so Jeremy sprang forward to open the door for them, Elena filing in first and her father followed. Jeremy shut the door behind them and climbed into the front seat. Miranda already had directions to the nearest hospital queued up on the GPS and the heater blasting. From the backseat they piled blankets on top of the angel to keep her as warm as they could.

While they drove Grayson called ahead to the hospital to warn them of their impending arrival, spouting off medical jargon about the state of the patient. Elena heard none of this. All her attention was focused on the angel in her lap. Grayson had the girl's legs in his lap so he could keep an eye on her injured leg and keep it elevated, so that put her upper body in Elena's lap. Tentatively, Elena brushed her fingers through the angel's hair, carefully removing knots, dead leaves, and wildflowers from the golden curls.

Elena had even tried to pry open her fingers to pull the necklace out of her palm but the angel had a death grip on it, so she'd let it be.

Only a few minutes into the drive the angel began to stir. Grayson's attention snapped over to her, the phone still pressed to his ear. She groaned and tried to sit up, so Elena gently pressed her hand down on the girl's shoulder.

"Stay still, you're okay, we're taking you to the hospital," she whispered into the angel's ear, stroking soothing fingers through her loose hair. Gradually the girl calmed and stopped struggling. Elena let her hand slip behind her shoulder to hold the angel to her, her fingers still stroking her hair. Grayson gave her an approving look and continued to update the hospital on their status.

The angel looked up at Elena with impossibly blue eyes, holding her gaze desperately, like Elena was the only thing keeping her alive. There was fear in her eyes, and it made Elena sick, so she kept her eyes on hers and kept whispering sweet nonsense.

"It's okay, you'll be okay, just stay with me, angel."

* * *

Much later, at the hospital, they met the angel's mother—Sheriff Liz Forbes, who sobbed her gratitude at them and practically tackled Elena when Grayson informed her that she was the one who found her daughter.

When they'd arrived at the emergency room entrance a small army of medical personnel met them to take the angel—Caroline Forbes—from them and wheel her away for surgery. Her mother had burst into the waiting room and harassed the nurses until someone thought to tell her that the dark-haired foursome in the corner was the family who had rescued her baby girl. She'd spent the rest of the night glued to their sides, her hand folded into Elena's, listening intently as Grayson assured her that her daughter was not beyond saving.

When the doctor came out to tell them that Caroline had made it through the surgery successfully, he brought the necklace she'd been clutching in her fist. She'd held it so tightly that they'd had to surgically remove it because the pendant had become imbedded in her skin.

The doctor handed it over the Sheriff Forbes with a bemused grin. It was one of those cheesy word plate necklaces that Liz knew her daughter would never be caught dead in.

In generic cursive it spelled the word _lucky_.

* * *

 _ **Guardian Angel**_

 _(The angel's heart froze to ice)_

Caroline knew it wasn't a good idea to be driving home with all the ice. Really, she should've gotten a hotel room in the city for the night. It was thoughts of her warm bed and Frida, her cat that sent her out onto the treacherous ice-covered roads at midnight. She'd been writing a rather difficult piece on fashionable yet practical boots for winter and had consequently been the last person out of the office. The ice had given her pause, but in the end she'd decided to make the long drive home.

Commuting wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but she was a small town girl at heart and she couldn't live amongst the towering buildings and chaos of New York City. So every night and every morning she made the long commute to and from the small coastal town of Sea Girt, New Jersey. The ice made it even longer.

The roads were empty; there was one car in front of her and no others to be seen. Despite the combination of the late hour and the long day behind her, Caroline didn't have to fight against sleep. The ice kept her on the edge of her seat. The roads were so bereft of life—the world had gone black and white with minimal shades of gray in between—that she'd have felt entirely alone if it weren't for the car in front of her. It was some dark color, gray or blue or black, it was too dark to tell.

She kept them just within her sight and imagined stories for them. The people in the car, the clothes they liked to wear, why they were in the city. Miles and miles passed by and she found herself strangely attached to the little dark car in front of her.

The monotony of the drive was just starting getting to her when they crashed. One second she was wondering if maybe she should've stayed in the city, and the next second the car in front of her slipped out of the driver's control and flipped over twice. Something smashed through the windshield.

Instinctively she slammed on the brake and for thirty heart pounding seconds her car slipped and slid on the ice before it came to a stop. With mounting horror Caroline realized that the thing that had smashed through the windshield was a person. The passenger had gone through the window. Unsteadily Caroline groped around for her phone that had been thrown from her purse when she'd braked.

With shaking hands she dialed 911. She gulped for air while it rang. After what felt like years someone answered.

"There's been an accident on the interstate," she blurted out, rattling off her best estimate of their location. When she hung up, she couldn't remember the conversation at all. Hands still shaking, she opened her door and got out of the car. The cold hit her like a solid wall that left her weak in the knees. Determined, she used her car to hold herself up right until she had her bearings. Gulping down freezing air, she took careful, steady steps towards the wrecked car. There was no fire—not yet, but she could smell the gasoline. She could tell the driver was already dead.

She'd never seen a dead body before. It was a woman, her body limp, and the skin of her face peeled back to reveal muscle and bone. Swallowing down the rising nausea in her throat, Caroline moved on. Carefully she made her way to the body on the ground. It was a small girl, breathing erratically.

"Hello?" Caroline called to the girl. "Are you okay, Sweetie?" She reached her at last and kneeled down next to her.

The girl let out a shuddering sob in response. There were scrapes on her face, nothing like the horror of the driver—her mother probably—but still out of place on such a young face. One at her hairline was too deep to be categorized as a scrape, blood sliding down her face to linger in her dark hair. She couldn't have been older than ten.

She gasped, again and again, her breath a white aura above her. There were tears sliding down her face as she struggled to breathe. Caroline held back tears.

"It's okay, Sweetie, it's gonna be okay, help is on the way," Caroline promised, taking her small hand in hers. The little girl was holding something in her hand, and Caroline could feel the sharp edges press into her bare hands—she'd forgotten to put on her gloves. The little girl sobbed harder, squeezing her hand with all the strength in young body.

"Mama, Mama, Mama," the girl choked out, no air for tears or words, and yet still they came. In the background, the car blazed to life, full of fire. They were far enough away that Caroline paid it no attention.

The little girl must've had another injury somewhere on her head, hidden beneath the mass of her thick, dark hair, because a slow moving pool of blood spread around her head like a halo, luridly bright against the ice. Her breathing began to slow, and Caroline could feel her press the object into her hand, giving it over to her even as her grip began to weaken. Caroline realized that help would not come in time.

Slowly, so slowly, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to her soft little forehead.

"You'll be with your mama soon," she promised, smoothing her hair back with her free hand. It came away sticky red. The girl smiled with childish delight at her promise and closed dark eyes. Caroline sank down until her forehead touched the girl's; blood the only thing between them. For a moment they shared breaths, and then only Caroline was breathing.

The blood haloing the girl widened and pooled at Caroline's knees, staining the designer jeans and stylish coat she'd chosen so carefully that morning. It had only been hours earlier, but it felt like years. Caroline felt weary to her bones, she felt older than the stars. She would never be able to wear these clothes again. They'd have to burn.

For a long moment she stayed there, her forehead pressed to the little girl's, breathing in and out, the only living being for miles. She thought about closing her eyes and going to sleep. She told herself she would only close her eyes for a little while.

She only opened her eyes when she heard the sirens.

* * *

Despite the ice, Elena and Ric hadn't been expecting any serious accidents. The ice was bad enough that they'd assumed people would stay where they were. When the report came in over the radio she remembered that there were always people willing to risk it.

Being an EMT had taught her that people were reckless with their lives, blissfully unaware of the dangers of the world. Losing her parents the same night she almost lost her own life had taught her that life was fragile and death was imminent. Ric had been her partner since she'd started three years ago.

By all accounts, it was a small accident, only one car with two passengers. The driver behind them had been far enough away that she wasn't caught up in it. Still, the bodies were some of the worst Elena had seen. The car was already on fire when they'd arrived on scene, but the image of the beautiful blonde hovering over the tiny dark-haired child surrounded by a halo of blood would haunt her for years to come.

Her first glimpse of the woman who had witnessed the whole accident was like something out of a biblical passage. The fire and flashing emergency vehicle lights creating a halo around her head and blazing wings at her back. Still, she kept her bare hand pressed to the little girl's forehead, hovering over her like a guardian angel.

When Elena arrived at her side, she looked up at her with the blank-eyed stare of shock, her face still wet with tears. Vibrant blue eyes reflecting flames and blood, strangely peaceful despite all she had witnessed.

"She's gone," the guardian angel told her. Then the peace faded from her eyes and she was just a woman, traumatized from all that she had witnessed.

Gently, Elena took her blood sticky hand and hauled her to her feet, leading her to the ambulance to treat her for shock and exposure. She left Alaric to deal with the little girl. Firefighters rushed by, working to put out the fire. Trembling, the blonde allowed Elena to lead her.

"What's your name?" Elena asked. They passed by the lights and Elena could see blood all over her clothes. Elena squeezed her hand sympathetically. Swallowing harshly, the woman squeezed back, and licked her dried lips.

"Caroline," she answered hoarsely. In her free hand, she twisted something in her palm. Elena released her other hand when they got to the van and began to gather the necessary items.

"What's that you got there?" Elena asked gently, wrapping Caroline in an emergency blanket. Caroline looked at her, startled, and then looked down at her hands.

"I-I don't know," she cleared her throat. "The little girl gave it to me." Slowly, she opened her fist. Spilling over the plains of her hand was a delicate, gold chain. There, in her cold, bloody palm, sat the pendant, gleaming in the night.

It was a gold star.

* * *

 _ **Arch Angel**_

 _(The blackness that falls is coming to stay)_

Elena visited the graveyard every Saturday. Methodically she made her way through the graves of her loved ones, dainty bouquets and vibrant anecdotes for every grave. She started with her paternal grandparents, and then moved to her maternal ones. Then she visited her Uncle John, her father's brother, and after that her Aunt Jenna—her mother's sister. She used to end every visit with her parents. Today would only be the third Saturday since she buried her brother Jeremy.

He was last now. She had no words for him, no words for the pain. She just sat and stared at the grave marker until the world was blurry and meaningless. She was too young to have so many buried, too young to be so alone. Jeremy was too young to be gone, but she was alone now, so she figured too young wasn't a barricade anymore. She didn't feel young anymore. She never knew that twenty-three could feel so old.

Her legs were dead beneath her by the time she finally rose from her spot beside his grave. The sharp pins and needles shooting through her calves made the world come back into focus with intense ferocity. She shivered in the brisk spring air, pulling her coat tightly around her, swiping at half-dried tears. With shaking legs, she picked her way through the graveyard on autopilot.

For the most part, Elena avoided the other graveyard visitors. Some of them came as frequently as her—Mrs. Lockwood to see her husband, her son with her once a month, and ancient Mr. Flowers to see his brothers—so she couldn't avoid knowing them to an extent. Still, most people came infrequently so Elena could avoid connection. She didn't want to see the pain in their eyes, the pain that matched her own. Didn't want to feel that stabbing empathy, their grief mixing in her gut with her own. It was understandable that she avoided them. She had enough sorrow of her own. She didn't need theirs too.

Despite her usual restriction, she couldn't help looking at the blonde. Elena stopped several feet in front of her. She was new. Her bright hair was uncovered, haloed by the strengthening spring sun, gleaming like gold, white roses in full bloom folded into her palms. She looked serene.

She stared down at the grave marker in front of her, dressed carefully in a classic black dress. Her face was devoid of tears, calm in the face of tragedy, yet there was pain too. Her eyes—the same clear blue as the sky—had somehow, impossibly, gone calm with pain. Elena stared, mesmerized.

Pain was something Elena knew intimately; she carried it like a constant weight, the world on her shoulders. She had never found peace with her pain. She warred with it every day, fought it for control. Every day was a battle, her against her grief. She won, most days, by sheer force of will. Lately though, she lost more often than not. Losing Jeremy was like losing that legendary force of will. What was the point of living if she had no one left?

This girl though, this girl had found some common ground with her grief. Elena could see it in her face. She was grieving, sad and in pain, but there was no fight. She had made peace with her pain. She held herself tall and strong, spine straight and head held high. She looked—well she looked like an angel of the highest order. Elena was mesmerized.

Wispy clouds drifted through the sky behind her, and oddly enough, they formed delicate, but definitive wings that seemed to perch on her shoulder blades, completing the illusion. Suddenly, the girl turned her head and looked straight at Elena. Elena felt foolish, caught staring, but the girl smiled. It was a sad smile, yet still serene. Elena returned it, and she began to walk again, leaving the graveyard.

She could feel it again—that force of will that assured her she could get through anything that life threw at her. Still sad, she felt lighter. She felt ready to fight.

 **AN: yeah so…did you like it?**

 **xoxo**

 **-Pixie**


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